


Pulling Rank

by hellkitty



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Biting, F/M, Knifeplay, mild dominance play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4147128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/pseuds/hellkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <a href="http://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/450.html?thread=606914#cmt606914"> kink meme prompt </a>.  Slightly cleaned/edited version.  And...strangely...fluffy?  *headtilt*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulling Rank

Ace rapped on the door to Furiosa’s quarters. It had been a rough run, and they’d even gotten hit on the way back, and when he’d last seen her, stepping out of the cab, she’d looked like that bad combination of exhausted and angry, frayed and frustrated. He’d told her he’d square away the rest of the crew, and had spent the last hour running them through the infirmary, rolling vehicles in, and bellowing at the Repair Boys till they got their asses in gear.  

He was feeling more than a little on edge himself, by the time his knuckles hit the wood. “Gettin’ too damn old for this,” he muttered, then gave a bitter laugh.

The door jerked open in front of him, a spill of light across his eyes. “Old for what?”

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” he countered.

“So are you.”

“Have to give my report,” he said, stepping into the room. Because he could see how this was going to go: she was keyed up, he was keyed up.  “And a few other things to take care of.” Seems like all she’d managed to do in the last hour was take off her left arm. He could see the redness on the stump of it, wearing against the metal.

“Like what?”

He snorted. “You, apparently.”  He’d been in her quarters long enough to know the layout, to know how far to back her against the room, before pushing at her shoulders so that she landed, heavily, on the stone ledge on the far side. He dropped to one knee, hands moving to unlace her boots, jerking one off her foot. 

“I like you down there,” Furiosa observed, slyly,  nudging his shoulder with her bare foot.  

“Don’t get too used to it,” Ace yanked off her other boot, spreading his thumbs along the sole of her foot, grinning at the heavy sigh.  

“What if I want to?”

“Then,” he said, rising up to his knees, tracing his hands up the outsides of her legs to her waist, “You’re settin’ yourself up for disappointment.”  There were some advantages to being an old brawler, knowing how to use weight and leverage.  He heaved her up, hands hooking under the waist of her trousers with a swift pull, yanking them down over her hips.  

“Ace!” she yelled, outraged, throwing her hand behind her on the ledge to catch her balance.

“What?” He ducked down, throwing her over his shoulder as he shucked the fabric off her legs, flinging it aside. “Couple of rough days on the road,” he said. “Thinkin’ maybe I ought to take you to the baths. Like this.” Hanging over his shoulder, one-armed, stripped from the waist down.  Yeah, that got the howl he’d wanted, her hand pummeling his back, legs trying to kick him, even pinned as they were just above the knee by his arm.  Because she knew him well enough that she knew he’d do it, if he had half a mind to.

“Shush, Imperator,” he said, sliding his free hand up the back of her thighs. “Keep up like that and someone’s gonna hear you.”

“Ace, when you put me down, I’m going to--”

Not really an inducement to put her down, he thought. The caressing hand stopped its gentle touch, and slapped, hard,  just at the join between her ass and her thigh. “You’re going to behave. That’s what you’re going to do.”  He should...probably not be enjoying this quite this much.

“Keep dreaming.”

He gave a throaty laugh, and sank his teeth into the swell of muscle of her ass.  She tasted of skin and sand and sex, and the shock of the bite arched her spine, her outraged yell withering into a gasp.

“Maybe I like dreaming,” he said, releasing his bite, swinging her down to the ledge.  But the fight was up in her and she twisted as he moved her, trying to wriggle/kick her way free.

He flung himself on her, hips high, weight on his shoulders pressing into hers, pushing her face down against the stone. He  could feel the heat of her against his body--the sinuous curves of her spine against his belly, letting her struggle to get her knees underneath her, thinking it would help.

It didn’t. It just got her where he wanted her, and he posted up, one hand covering the back of her neck, just over her brand, his other tearing at his own trousers, hooking his hard cock free and pushing it just against her opening.

She went still, almost vibratingly still, feeling him against her, and he felt the almost scalding heat and slickness of her, enticing.  He took advantage of the position--her hips high, shoulders down, running his free hand over her hips, feeling the pink welt of where he’d slapped her before, tingling under his fingertips.  She growled under him, twitching her hips back, trying to get him inside her, her hand flailing back, hooking around his thigh.  Yeah, well if he was waiting for an invitation, there it was, so he eased himself into her, slower than either of them probably wanted, feeling her flesh part around him, sinking inside her.

She squeezed down against him, insistent and demanding.  “That’s not behaving,” he admonished.  

“Close as you’re going to get,” she said, her voice muffled, cheek down against the stone.  

“Nah. Think I can do better.”  Scratch that: knew he could do better.  He shifted back, releasing his grip on her neck, pulling her over so she was half-twisted, resting on one hip, the other against his belly, back flat on the ground. He snatched for his knife, flashing the blade in front of her eyes. He watched her eyes catch on the blade, before he brought it down, tracing the dulled back edge down her throat, cool across her belly, before he caught a strip of the fabric over her breasts. He flipped the blade over, sharp end up, and it cut through the fabric with the barest whisper.  And then he caught another, slicing through it, the weight of her breasts helping loosen it, gravity pulling against the binding, and then the last scrap fell aside, her breasts pale and soft, and the blade glinted, just a little, nicking the side of one of the white moons of flesh. A bead of blood, scarlet and glistening, welled in the cut, and Ace bent over, covering it with his mouth, sucking the small, almost accidental cut, tasting the hot metal salt of her blood before moving his mouth over, nuzzling along the underside of her breast, where the softness met the rise of her ribs.

She was breathing under him--still and silent except for that, the shallow, uneven pants of arousal--eyes lidded, mouth parted, slack and loose under his mouth, the cool line of the blade he drew down her thigh before stowing it back in its sheath, lost in touch.

“That’s better,” Ace whispered, moving his hips against her, watching the way her freed breasts moved with each thrust, fluid and enthralling. He picked up the pace of his thrusts, feeling the desire in him flame out over him, driving him forward, and he braced one hand on her breastbone, fingertips splayed around her throat. Her hand covered his, head tilting back, baring her throat to his hand.  Her throat was a slim, pale column, clean and straight and beautiful, and his hand was scarred, seamed with dirt, broad and rough, and he could hurt her so easily, and they both knew that, both knew the dangerous edge, and that he knew how to skim on this side of the line: he squeezed, gently at first, just  little weight on her throat, a little press where he could feel the twin pulses throbbing, urgent, alive, under his fingertips.  

She writhed, smothering a cry, that bubbled against his hand, and her body bucked and jumped, heaving him up, so that it was about all he could do to ride over her, until she settled, still shuddering, shivering, under him.  Somewhere in all of it, he came, but he couldn’t remember it, just the sort of heady aftermath, endorphins and adrenaline lifting like they did at the back of his skin.  It didn’t matter, because this was better, way better, feeling her let go against him, all the tension, all the edge whetting them both softened, eased.

He collapsed down beside her, panting, and she moved his arm, pulling it over her, lifting her head to pillow it against his bicep, after an apologetic lick at his wrist. “You bit me,” she said, half-accusingly. “In the ass.”

Ace shrugged. “Kind of an inspired moment, really.” He could still remember the taste of her, the way her whole body moved, electric and aroused, under his teeth, the way the muscle resisted, then yielded under his bite.

“It’s going to leave a bruise.”

“If I did it right, yeah.”  If she was expecting regret, she came to the wrong Ace.

“Going to think of you every time I sit down,” she said, pushing her mouth into something that was trying to be a pout but a smile kept pulling it open.  Good look on her, he thought. Far better than the wired, tense frown he'd seen when she opened the door. 

He laughed, leaning over to rest a kiss against her cropped hair, feeling the sweat start to cool on his skin, feeling the curved lines of her body against his side, sleek muscled and satin skinned. “Can think of way worse ways to be remembered.”


End file.
